


Foxfire

by Alfalfa



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Slow Burn, Sormikweek2016, i'll add more characters and relationships as they appear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-08-07 13:24:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7716412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alfalfa/pseuds/Alfalfa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>High School AU. Sorey and Mikleo meet at Marlind's annual celebration of its Great Tree. The rest, as they say, is history.</p><p>(it's really just a story about two dorks floundering about after falling in love. multi-chapter and slow burn for maximum suffering.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Festival

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1: Water (healing, passivity) 
> 
> Sorey goes to an annual celebration to fulfill an annual tradition.

Marlind was a quiet town, old-fashioned with its rural housing, dirt roads, agriculture, and not quite caught up with the times of the world around it. When the sun dipped well below the horizon, and the sky darkened, lanterns illuminated the well-worn paths of the streets. They flickered as moths fluttered around their flame, and the crickets chirped in the distance. 

On this night, however, the sounds of the insects were drowned out by the low chatter of people. A procession of people choked up the wide roads, steadily proceeding to the center of the town. Where the paths were usually clear, makeshift booths had sprouted up, advertising and selling items ranging from trinkets to treats. Much of the crowd was clad in traditional robes of all colors and patterns, their long sleeves nearly touching the ground with cloths secured by long sashes around their waists. Most held phones in their hands, the lights from the tiny screens bobbing in a river of artificial stars.

Only one head seemed to be travelling against the current of people. A boy's messy brown hair waved as the pair of feathers clipped to each ear danced in the wind. Unlike most others, he wore a simple outfit consisting of a casual caramel sweater and jeans. In his hands, he clutched plastic bags full of items purchased from the booths. He stood out against the traditional attire of those around him, but he didn't seem to care, intent on getting to his destination.

Maneuvering through the crowd with fluid ease, he managed to make it out of the streets, emerging near the south entrance to the town, where a large gate stood proudly behind a bridge arched over a bubbling stream. 

He sighed, slowly walking over to the stream's banks with a hand on his chest. Getting through such a thick throng of people with a night as festive as this was exhausting. Looking up to where the moon shone in the night sky, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness from somewhere deep inside him. His hand on his chest traveled upward, absentmindedly twirling the silver charm that hung from his neck. The touch of cold metal only reminded him of how alone he was, and brought forth feelings from memories that he couldn't recall.

_ It's been a long time, hasn't it. _

A long time since the news of the accident. A long time since the plague. A long time since the mourning. A long time since the acceptance. A long time since he let go of a hand whose warmth had been lost from his memory to grasp onto others that shook him away with a vengeance as they grasped onto Death’s in the end.

A long time since he was welcomed into a stranger's arms, since he moved away from this very town.

A year since he last came here and did this.

Getting on his knees, he set the bags down so that he could rummage through them, hands emerging with a blue lotus blossom cupped in them. Its rich hue contrasted with the tanned and calloused skin of his palms, petals unfurled and glistening in the moonlight, here where the lanterns from town didn't reach.

He lifted the flower to his chin, tilting his head down to whisper soft words. "For good luck," he said.

_ Ascension, enlightenment, rebirth. _

Bending over carefully with the flower in his hands, he released the flower into the water, watching as it was gently carried away under the bridge and off into the distance. 

He reached into the bags again, this time pulling out the flower of a white rose.

"I miss you."

It floated nicely on the water's surface.

_ Respect, hope. _

Flower after flower, he let them free, murmuring phrases with each one.

"Are you happy where you are?"

_ Reassurance, strength. _

"I'm doing fine, don't worry."

_ Peace, radiance. _

His heart grew lighter with each flower that he sent on its way, and it became easier to talk. Soon, he was speaking about the days that had come and gone since his time here at the festival last year, the people he met, the work of school... He became accustomed to the silence, taking comfort in it rather than grief.

It was from the sound of his own words that he didn't notice the footsteps approaching from the town, the clearing of a throat from a short distance away as he set down the very last flower. He jumped, turning around to find a boy that didn't look any older than he was leaning against a tree.

His arms were crossed, the long sleeves flowing of his traditional robe low to the ground. Short brown hair only a few shades lighter than his own settled in wisps at his cheeks, bangs curved to the side. His skin was paler than the moonlight that shone upon it, the delicate features of his youthful face carved in a frown. Violet orbs met with the green of his own, and he found his breath stolen away.

"You shouldn't litter." The sound of the other's voice, stern and scolding, brought him back to reality. 

"Ah, this is--!" He waved his hands around, looking back to the stream to see if he could gesture to the flowers floating on its surface to prove that he wasn't throwing trash into the water, but they had all been carried away. "Um..." He turned back sheepishly, the bags beside him were empty as well, having been filled up with the flowers that were long gone. 

The other boy didn't look impressed. 

"Whatever you threw in there will end up coming back to you, you know. The land isn't your garbage can to be used at will." It was clear that he was mad, though his tone was steady and calm.

"But it wasn't garbage! It was..." He started rummaging through his bags again, plastic rustling furiously until he finally found what he was looking for. "Aha!" In his fingers was a blue petal, and he held it out triumphantly to the other. "Flowers! I was setting down flowers in the river!" 

"...What?" The boy looked confused, but he stopped leaning against the tree in favor of coming up closer to examine the petal in his hand. "Why would you do that?" he asked, kneeling next to him. 

"Well, it's, uhh..." he trailed off, not sure how to explain it in words because it would surely sound weird. "Oh, just follow me!" he exclaimed, jumping up and grabbing the empty bags beside him to dispose into a proper trash can later. (Because he wasn't a litter-er, contrary to this boy's opinion.)

"What?" the other said again, but he could feel his presence behind him as he bounded toward the road again.

The procession of people had long since reached their destination at the center of town, leaving only a few stragglers in the path, most of which were sellers closing shop. They didn't pay him or the other boy any heed as they ran through the streets, following the main road past where everyone had gathered at Marlind's Great Tree and going on to the sanctuary. 

The two crossed past the stone fence, the black spires adorning the top of it glistening almost maliciously in the moonlight. The boy in front slowed his pace to a walk, feathers jingling at their clasps. He could hear the other do the same, sounding only slightly out of breath. 

The wind picked up, and the shed they walked by creaked eerily. Suddenly the quiet, happy mood of the evening festival was gone, replaced by a somber ambience as they walked past the sanctuary and into the graveyard at its side.

There was a small gasp behind him, and he shook his head to deter any thoughts the other boy might have had coming on. He didn't bring him here to get pity.

The graveyard was enclosed by a wrought iron fence, stone slabs of all shapes and sizes sunk into the earth with wilting flowers and aging offerings left at their base. He purposefully led his skeptical companion around where he knew (where he had  _ seen _ ) the deceased buried. Stepping on their graves, --even if they were under a hefty mound of dirt-- wouldn't be respectful, after all. 

There was a part of the fence near the corner directly to the right of the entrance where the bars were bent ever so slightly out of place, leading to the small strip of bank next to the end of a river. Needless to say, if you were good at limbo you could probably squeeze your way through there.

He turned around and motioned for his company to follow him, maneuvering his way through the gap with ease. His feet sunk into the soft earth, and he had to grip one of the bars from the fence to stay on the narrow strip of land. "Be careful," he said once the other was through. "The land here is mushy, thanks to the water. If you slip, you'll probably fall in."

"Good to know," the boy deadpanned, clutching his robe and lifting it past his ankles. He was quick to imitate him in holding the black bars, though he leaned into them far more than he needed to. “So,” he said, eyes trailing along the edge of the riverbank, “What did you bring me here for--” he gasped again, but this time it was out of wonder (and maybe even delight?).   
  
He couldn’t help but smile and grin as he followed the other’s gaze, head swaying a bit from side to side and making the beads holding his feathers click together.

The flowers he had sent on their way earlier were gathered at the end of the river, a rich assortment of pleasant colors and blooms. A couple of roots from the Great Tree dipped into the water, and at their ends lied glowing patches of vibrant blues and greens. The light illuminated the blossoms in an almost ethereal glow as they float on the water’s surface. 

“This is--” The other boy, having forgotten his fear of falling into the water, brought one of his hands up to his mouth in shock.

“Foxfire,” he answered easily. “The Great Tree’s been around for a long time, so a few of the roots above ground have been damaged.” Definitely not enough to cause harm to the Great Tree, though, or else the townspeople would have taken immediate action. “Some parts of the wood decay, and all it takes is a spore to land on it for a clump to start growing. And when it grows, it glows.” He leaned back against the bars.

There was a groan from beside him.

“‘And when it grows, it glows’? Was that supposed to be poetic or something?” The other boy looked at him with an expression that was a mix between disbelief and agony. 

“Did… Did that not sound good? I mean, it rhymed so--”   
  
“No. Just, no.” He was shaking his head now, burying his face in the long sleeve of his robe. “If you’re going to be poetic, don’t rhyme twice in the same line.” 

“Noted.” The more casually-dressed boy looked down and nodded, feeling like he had disappointed him somehow.

“But, the flowers...” He looked up again to see the boy gazing at the group of flowers floating on the river. “You knew they would end up here?”    
  
He nodded again, “There’s a legend. Once upon a time in Marlind, a hardworking woman lost her husband to war. Saddened and widowed, she took the most fragrant blossoms from the Great Tree and set them down by the river near a bridge-- It’s that one you saw me by earlier, actually-- with a prayer for her deceased husband. 

“The Great Tree heard her prayer, and with its blessing, used the blossoms on the water to carry her words to her husband. Her husband received them, and gathered the most beautiful flowers from the underworld to share his own words with her. The Great Tree carried them back, and well, even separated by the barriers of life and death, they still managed to find happiness with each other.”

A scoff from his audience. “And so the Great Tree just acted as their messenger boy?” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw him shake his head. “How exactly did it manage to carry flowers between worlds?”

“Well, I’ve heard some people speculate that with its giant size, the Great Tree might as well act as a gate between worlds, so maybe that’s how. And besides, it’s not like they could do it every night. It’s just once a year, on this very night, when the spiritual power of the Great Tree is said to be at its strongest,” he said, closing his eyes. “That’s why I was setting flowers.”

There was a slight  _ squish _ noise as the other boy shifted his weight. “Because you--  _ oh. _ I…” he trailed off. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have accused you of littering.”

He shook his head, feathers wisping past his cheeks. “It’s okay, you didn’t know.” Only Marlind locals knew that legend, and when he had learned of it, it had only been a few weeks before… 

Before-- 

“It’s not like I do it just for her, either,” he said a little too fast. “There are other people here that need updating on the world, too, you know?” There had been so many other people that had been caught in the black wave of death as it had swept through. In his grief he’d latched onto them and they’d let him, acting as his rock and keeping him above the waves. They gave him the will to survive even as they sunk under, swept from one realm to another.

“Even-- Even if the legends aren’t real, and my words don’t reach them, I--” His voice broke, and he had to take one of his hands off the bars to wipe at his face, at the tears that weren’t there but still felt like it since his throat was tightening up and the back of his eyes were burning and his breathing was starting to get a little funny and  _ god, _ there were so many, there were so many people here that he would do  _ anything  _ to see again--

A hand placed itself on his shoulder. A silent comfort from someone he barely knew. 

It snapped him out of it, and he brought his sleeve across his face one more time to wipe at the tears that weren’t there. He’d cried his fill long ago. “Sorry,” he croaked, “This must be a great first impression.” 

The boy next to him just shook his head, “You don’t need to worry about that.” There was another  _ squish  _ noise as he took a step forward. And another. “You--” And another-- “Wooah!” A cry of surprise echoed as his wooden shoes lost their grip on the spongy soil and he started to fall to the side.

He was quick to react, wrenching free of his mental stupor and reaching out a hand to grab the first thing that his mind can think of to obtain a secure hold on the other boy. 

It happened to be his waist.

His arm snaked around the other’s waist and he used the bar behind him as support to haul him back to safety, keeping him securely pinned to his chest. 

He looked down, “Phew! That was a close one, wasn’t it--”

His eyes fell upon pale, nearly translucent skin, fair brown hair and stunning violet eyes. They took in a perfectly contoured, flawless face with long lashes and rounded lips, which hung slightly open as the other boy stared at him, pressed flush against his chest and--  _ wow, _ he definitely wasn’t used to thinking of boys as pretty but with him, he could stand to get used to it--    


“S-Sorry! I have to go!” The other boy wrenched himself free of his grip, practically lunging for a bar and gripping onto it for dear life as he fled the scene, wooden shoes making soft  _ thuds  _ against the grass.   


He was left there, shoes about an inch or two deep in mud with what felt like permanent metal imprints in his back. Oh, and his heart had possibly-- probably-- no, most  _ definitely  _ been stolen. Did he mention that part?

Leaning against the bars again, he groaned. Half from the pain and half from himself.

He hadn’t even gotten his name.

* * *

 

_ What the hell was that? My robe’s all dirty now...  _ The boy thought as he ran through the streets, bits of mud from his wooden shoes rubbing into the dry dirt. The streets were now clustered with people again after they had finished their celebration, ritual,  _ spiritual thing  _ that he honestly couldn’t be bothered to remember right now.

What he did remember was the face of a boy who had freckles dancing across the bridge of his nose,  _ stupid _ , gaudy feathers attached to his ears. He had been looking at him with an expression of relief at first.

But then those  _ stupid _ green eyes had started widening and the next thing he knew, he was being looked at with an expression of awe. Their eyes met and then  _ it  _ happened. They were staring into each other’s eyes, gazing into the deepest part of themselves, doing the  _ stupid _ soul-searching thing, and he just  _ had _ to get out.

He was staying with his mom at the local Wontiga Inn, he could only hope that the boy he had met wasn’t staying there, either. They’d be leaving in the morning, so it’d be kind of awkward to talk with him while they were stuck in Marlind for the night.

A throng of people trickled in through the inn’s doors, and he pushed and shoved his way out of the crowd, muttering half-hearted apologies and nodding along like he actually cared. Not.

Eventually, and with the casualty of one lost shoe, sadly, he made it out of the crowd. He didn’t bother stopping by the counter to order dinner. The inn was going to be busy with this many people, and he had eaten his fill from the goodies sold at the festival, anyway. Limping, (it wasn’t intentional, but you just can’t walk normally when you only have one shoe on) he made it back to their inn room, shutting the door and slumping against the wood. 

He stayed like that for a while. A long while. But his heartbeat still thumped wildly in his ribcage. He brought up his knees and buried his face in his hands, a bright, earnest smile flashing in his mind’s eye.

His heart just wouldn’t calm down, and he had a feeling he knew why.


	2. The Day After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following the festival, Sorey and Mikleo continue with their everyday lives.

_ Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt! _ _   
_

An insanely loud noise awoke the boy from his dreams with a shrill  _ bzzt!  _ He groaned, lying on his stomach and nuzzling insistently into his pillow, as if it would make the noise stop.

It didn’t.

He groaned again, arms loosening their hold on the poor pillow as he rolled over onto his back. The action caused him to wince, the feathers on his ears pulling at their clasps under his weight. He caught the bus between Marlind and Ladylake to get back. Upon arriving home, he stumbled up the stairs and crashed almost immediately. By a miracle he got to his room and fell asleep in his bed.

Needless to say, the alarm clock on his nightstand couldn’t care less about his exhaustion. It continuing its shrill, metallic beeps. He writhed in agony under the assault on his ears for a few moments. Then he finally reached his limit and rolled over. His hand came down on the infernal device with deadly precision, silencing its cries.

Free of its torment, he rolled onto his back with a sigh, staring at his ceiling with bleary eyes. He could hear pots and pans rustling, the sound of oil crackling from across the hall. The ever-tempting smell of bacon wafted under his nose, and made his stomach growl. A grave reminder of the fact that that he hadn’t had much to eat last night, too caught up in his yearly tradition and too startled by that other boy to remember to eat.

That whole encounter-- the last part of it, really-- had left his mind reeling and his heart confused. All he knew was that he really wished the other boy had stayed for just a bit longer. Who knows what would have happened then?  _ Who knows if he would even see him again?  _ The thought brought a pang of regret in his chest.

There was no time to dwell on that, however, as a loud  _ clang  _ of what could only be someone hitting a pot suddenly rang throughout his room. He winced, squeezing his eyes shut and covering his ears.

“Sorey, my boy! Up and at ‘em!” a man’s deep voice boomed from the doorway, as well as more metallic  _ clang _ ing as the unfortunate pot was beaten again and again.

“Noo…” Sorey protested weakly, “Five more minutes…” he said, curling up with his blankets into a little ball on his bed.

“Nonsense! Those feet aren’t going to drag themselves downstairs, are they?” the voice replied, punctuating his words with a hit of the pot. Poor pot. 

“They’ll do it if we believe in them…” Sorey said, shaking his head slowly and tugging the blanket over his head.   


“Sorey.” the voice said, and he could hear heavy footsteps coming closer to him. 

He shrank back in his blanket cocoon, doing everything he could to get himself as far away as possible because  _ oh no-- _

_ BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG! _

“Rise and shine!!”

His mouth opened to let out a high-pitched scream in perfect harmony with the dying hair cells in his ears. Although it could barely be heard over the deafening  _ BANG _ s of the ladle hitting the pot  _ right by his head. _

“I’m up! I’m up!” Sorey cried desperately, rolling over so fast that he fell off his bed and landed on the cold hardwood floor with a  _ thud.  _

Sorey sat up, groaning as he rubbed his back. He opened his eyes to find a hand outstretched in front of his face, and he took it, gratefully helping himself up. 

“Thanks, Mayvin,” he said, looking up at the man. 

Mayvin was a tall man, broad and muscled from years of labor. If it wasn’t for his stark gray hair, you’d have never guessed that he was even a day over 40. Armed with a ladle and a decently-sized pot, he cut quite the imposing figure. Or at least, he would have. If he hadn’t been wearing a hideous mustard-colored apron with the crooked lettering of “#1 World’s Best Explorer” (the ‘s’ in ‘Best’ backwards, to boot) and fuzzy house slippers.

The apron itself was bought from a department store some years ago, whereas the letters on it were sewn by the hand of a 6 year-old Sorey. They’d both thought it to be quite good at the time, but now Sorey couldn’t help but wish that Mayvin would just give the poor apron a rest already.

“Anytime, I would say. But I do this  _ every time,  _ Sorey. Maybe we need to start putting more alarm clocks in your room.” Mayvin said, ruffling Sorey’s bedhead. “Breakfast’s waiting, come to the kitchen before it gets cold. We’ve got a bit to do for the shop today.” With that, he left and headed into the hall.

Sorey yawned, body still protesting from the whole incident. Oh well, there was no getting out of it. Today was Sunday, and Mayvin sure wasn’t going to waste an extra pair of hands for the antique shop downstairs.

He headed to the bathroom and went through his morning routine. 

Shower. Brush teeth.  _ Don’t  _ think about that boy you met last night and will probably never see again despite the fact that he stole your hear--

Sorey spit the toothpaste out of his mouth and into the sink. This wasn’t the best time to be thinking about that. Heck, he didn’t even get his name! He could’ve been from Marlind, he could’ve been staying there temporarily for the festival, he could’ve been  _ anything,  _ Sorey thought as he gargled.

He finished up in the bathroom and headed to the kitchen, yawning as he walked in and took in the smell of fresh bacon. Yum. 

Mayvin was at the counter, whistling while his hand flipped a golden pancake onto a plate. “Taken care of your beauty routine, Sorey?” he asked, setting out plates laden with fresh food at the table.

Sorey just laughed. “Sure did, Mayvin.” He took a seat at the table, and Mayvin did  the same. They dug in, and Sorey slathered his pancakes with syrup, making a noise of satisfaction as the soft buttery goodness practically melted in his mouth. 

Mayvin took a gulp of his orange juice, and began to brief Sorey on their agenda for today. “It’s a Sunday.” he said, “Most people probably went to the festival at Marlind yesterday, so we shouldn’t get that many customers. You’ll be manning the register as usual, but try to sweep the floors and polish. Make everything look nice. I’ll be working through the shop’s paperwork in the back. Sound good?” 

Sorey nodded. The shop was more or less their main source of income, and he was happy to do anything he could to help out. 

Breakfast went on like usual, filled with the scraping of silverware against plates and mundane chatter. Mayvin went to his office at the end of the hall once they were finished eating. Sorey washed the dishes with a hum, focusing his thoughts on the slow day ahead. There definitely wasn’t any need to worry about homework. All of the work he had been assigned (because there were teachers that cruel, yep) had been painstakingly worked through on Friday night.

Actually, speaking of school… Sorey swung by his room to swipe his phone off his nightstand before going downstairs. He opened the door that connected to the back of the shop located behind the counter. 

A solid  _ tick  _ greeted him, followed by a  _ tock.  _ He looked over to where their good ol’ 1977 Ridgeway grandfather clock was ticking away at the time, pendulum swinging back and forth. The hands on the clock informed him that it was only a quarter past ten, over half an hour ‘till the shop opened. 

It was plenty of time for Sorey to get the shop looking nice, he supposed. He went to the maintenance closet and grabbed a broom and dustpan. Ah, he thought, gripping them in his hands, the classic tools for a mighty warrior. 

He grabbed his phone from his pocket and plugged his earbuds into the headphone jack, setting his playlist to shuffle through action music. The volume wasn’t too high, so if Mayvin called him from upstairs, he would be able to hear it. But it was at the perfect level for losing yourself in fantasy. The phone went back into his pocket, headphones snug in his ears.

Sorey brandished the broom in one hand, and the long handle of the dustpan in the other. “In the land where hope was all but extinguished, and courage existed only in the hearts of few... “ He set the broom to the ground and dragged it across the floor in one long stroke, freeing the dirt caught in between the wooden floorboards.

“A lone hero rose up, to fight against the hordes of despair that ravaged the earth. Armed with his trusty spear--” He swept dust bunnies into the dustpan-- “and shield, he was as strong as an army of twelve thousand men!” Sorey exclaimed, triumphantly walking over to the trashcan and stepping on the pedal to dump the contents of the dustpan in. 

“An ordinary boy by day, a valiant hero by night, his name was--” He took the opportunity to strike a pose, tapping the handle of the broom against the floor and lifting his chin in the air, “--Sorey!”  _ That was a good one,  _ he thought. He was so cool.

Said hero swept through the rest of the shop in a similar manner, adding onto his tale and making careful slow-motion fighting moves when necessary. The evil soldiers of kingdom Althurion wouldn’t fend themselves off, after all. 

Dumping the last of the excess dust and dirt into the trashcan, he put the broom and dustpan back in the closet, closing his eyes and placing his hand on his chest to honor his weapons.

Then it was onto the polishing. Sorey got through the windows first, since it would be troublesome if the potential window shopper couldn’t see through them. He cleaned out the display cases next, carefully lifting each antique. Most of these were just items that Mayvin had acquired on his travels, but occasionally they went to antique shows to get some fresh products and replenish their inventory. Those were fun, often Sorey would listen to the vendors as they explained the history of their wares and their authenticity. It was kind of a shame that they had to sell them, but it was better than hoarding them all, he supposed.

Shortly after he finished cleaning, the grandfather clock in the back ticked and let out its hourly toll. Time for the shop to open. 

He flipped over the sign that hung over the door to ‘OPEN’ and took his place behind the counter. The headphones came out of his ears, they wouldn’t look good for business. As soon as he shoved them in his back pocket, though, his phone let out a buzz. 

 

**[11:01 A.M.] Rose:**

sup ┻┳|･ω･)ﾉ

find urself any love at that fest??

 

Sorey glanced towards the windows. No approaching customers in sight.

 

**[11:02 A.M.] Sorey:**

Well… something like that?? ^^

 

**[11:02 A.M.] Rose:**

WHOA WAIT WHAT

details.

now.

 

**[11:03 A.M.] Sorey:**

Um so there was this guy and he was really pretty.

He accused me of littering so we had a talk and i showed him something but then he almost fell so i grabbed him but it ended up being by his waist and

God his eyes were gorgeous

Like i swear he has the most lovely eyes, i couldn’t really see well since it was dark and all but they were such a stunning shade of violet and

 

**[11:05 A.M.] Rose:**

um

Sorry my man

You’ve got it bad

sorey**

so

what’s his name ( =①ω①=)

 

**[11:06 A.M.] Sorey:**

I

I didn’t get it ;-;

he ran away from me

 

**[11:06 A.M.] Rose:**

Wait what

SOREY YOU DOG WERE U TRYING TO MACK ON HIM

 

Sorey slapped his hand over his mouth. What?! Why would he-- 

His thumbs tapped the screen of his phone furiously as he hurried to reply.

 

**[11:06 A.M.] Sorey:**

NO

he just said he had to go

And then he left (;*´Д`)

 

**[11:07 A.M.] Rose:**

aw man i’m sorry sorry but

U got ditched

SOREY*****

i hate autocorrect

 

Sorey sighed, letting his phone rest against the table. He supposed he had known all along, but having it spelled out to him was just twisting the knife in his gut. Something special  _ had _ happened in that moment. At least, it was what his heart was telling him. 

But then  _ why?  _ Why had the other boy left? He groaned. There was no way he could tell, all he could do was accept the fact that it was that. Whatever had happened there, it wasn’t meant to go farther and it never would. It was as simple as that.

 

**[11:10 A.M.] Rose:**

are you ok

or did you fall that hard

oh god you fell that hard didn’t you

 

He sighed again, picking his phone back up to reply to Rose.

 

**[11:10 A.M.] Sorey:**

Probably.

 

It was sad, but true.

 

**[11:11 A.M.] Rose:**

do you want to

hOLD UP IT’S 11:11 DUDE MAKE A WISH

 

**[11:11 A.M.] Sorey:**

Um rose that doesn’t work

 

**[11:11 A.M.] Rose:**

bRO YOU HAVE 30 SECODNDS LEFT JUST D O  I T  (ノಠ益ಠ)ノ彡┻━┻

 

_ Well,  _ Sorey thought,  _ it might be worth a shot.  _ Besides, what did he have to lose? He took a deep breath, and wished.

_ I wish I could see him again. _

 

**[11:12 A.M.] Rose:**

did u do it

 

**[11:12 A.M.] Sorey:**

Yeah

 

**[11:12 A.M.] Rose:**

awesome

I knew i could believe in you, my faithful disciple

 

Sorey chuckled, raising his thumbs to reply when he was interrupted by the jingling of a bell and the creaking of a door.

A customer! He scrambled to put away his phone, a bright smile plastered on his face in no time at all. “Welcome to Mayvin’s Wares!” Sorey greeted, looking up at the customer. “Feel free to brows--”

He stopped, mouth frozen in mid-speech.

There was  _ no way. _

He had to be dreaming.

The customer stared at him with an equal amount of shock. Those same stunning violet eyes from before widened behind a pair of rimless glasses.

It was  _ him. _

 

* * *

 

About half an hour before this fateful encounter, the beautiful boy who had unknowingly stolen our dear and beloved Sorey’s heart was standing a few blocks away from the shop. He had his phone in hand, eyebrows furrowed as he stared intently at its screen.

After the festival, he and his mom had left for Ladylake again in the morning. Having moved there only a few days ago, there was plenty of stuff they had yet to unpack. Excluding food. However, there was only so much of it they could bring, and so he was sent out to buy some quick groceries.

He bit his lip. The maps application told him that the grocery store was straight ahead, but… He looked up, there wasn’t any Uno St. as far as he could see. Growing frustration caused him to let out an irritated sigh. The sale would be ending today, so he wanted to get there as soon as possible. He didn’t feel like battling senile old ladies with canes today. Those discounted beans were  _ his,  _ dammit, and he certainly wasn’t going to give them up just because they decided to run over his foot with their mobility scooter. (Which was a completely unfair move, by the way. Why did old ladies want beans, anyway..?)

He looked back down at his phone again, and then at his surroundings. He sighed. Nothing to do now but walk around and hope that he stumbled upon it, he guessed.

Just then, his phone buzzed in his hand. A text.

 

**[10:43 A.M.] Mom:**

mikleo~!

how’s the shopping going?

 

**[10:44 A.M.] Mikleo:**

I haven’t found the store yet.

I think the data on this app might be out of date.

 

**[10:44 A.M.] Mom:**

i’m still busy with unpacking our stuff so i can’t come pick you up right now

where are you? maybe i can help

 

**[10:45 A.M.] Mikleo:**

On the corner of 8th and Bruneor St.

I don’t see Uno St anywhere nearby…

 

**[10:45 A.M.] Mom:**

looking it up right now

hmmm it should be there

ah honey try taking a right past 8th

 

Mikleo pushed up his glasses, thin with no frames. A right past 8th..? Skeptical, but trusting in his mom’s words, he did as she said. Sure enough, Uno St. appeared in sight after a bit of walking. His phone buzzed in his hand again.

 

**[10:51 A.M.] Mom:**

did you find it?

 

**[10:52 A.M.] Mikleo:**

Found it. I’ll buy the stuff now and be back at the house shortly.

 

**[10:52 A.M.] Mom:**

don’t worry about it! 

walk around if you want, there’s no rush

tmmrw’s school so relax while you can!  

O(≧w0)o

 

**[10:53 A.M.] Mikleo:**

I’ll contact you when I’m on my way back.

 

He sighed. His mom could really be easygoing sometimes.  _ Oh well,  _ he thought, stretching.  _ If she says to take my time, I might as well.  _ Learning the area better would certainly be a benefit. He didn’t want to have her go out of her way just to give him directions again. Stupid app.

It turned out that the store he was trying to find, 88 Salsa, was only a little ways away from where he had been originally. Shopping didn’t take long, what with his mother’s short list. (He even got the beans this time, 50% off! Take  _ that _ , old ladies.) But strangely, something across the street caught Mikleo’s eye…

A red two-story building stood across the street, providing nice shade from the rising sun. It didn’t really stand out from the others beside it, but what Mikleo was interested in was the shop that seemed to be on the first story. It had wide store windows, a brown awning trimmed with gold hung over the glass and contrasted nicely with the red brick. A sign sculpted in curvaceous gold font read “Mayvin’s Wares,” with a smaller “Antique shop” placed underneath the logo. 

An antique shop..? Mikleo remembered going to a few antique shows with his mom in the past, and he had always been enamored with the history and story behind each one. 

He looked at his phone. 11:10 A.M.

Just a quick detour wouldn’t hurt, right?

 

* * *

 

A bell jingled as Mikleo pushed open the door. The shop was relatively clean and organized, much to his approval. Antiques that were variety of shapes and sizes lined the shelves, while others rested in or sat on top of display cases. It was fairly spacious, and the walls were coated in an agreeing shade of velvety red that complimented the various colors of the items. The floorboards creaked under his feet, and the whole place had that wonderful smell reminiscent of a newly-opened book.

With all of the history and this quiet, comforting atmosphere surrounding him, it wasn’t a surprise that Mikleo felt right at home.

He walked in further, marvelling at the antiques on display, and then--

“Welcome to Mayvin’s Wares!” 

Wait, that voice.

Mikleo turned toward the source of the sound. His eyes widened. There was no way. It  _ couldn’t be. _

“Feel free to brows--” The person choked on their own words, staring at him with an equal amount of shock.

It  _ was. _

Standing at the counter was none other than the boy he had met ( _ not _ fallen for, though his heart said otherwise) last night. He had changed into a blue long sleeve v-neck, wearing a short sleeve white jacket with dark blue trim on top. Of course the god-awful feathers hadn’t gone away, but they looked a bit more ruffled than before, like he had slept in them. 

The collar on the v-neck went down as much as regular v-necks did, but Mikleo had to catch his eyes from trailing down tanned skin. He instinctively looked away, cheeks warm. There was no way someone could look  _ that  _ good in his outfit, dammit. Short sleeves over long sleeves? Who even does that? What was the point?

“Uhh,” the now-familiar clerk snapped out of whatever they had been caught in first. “S-So, interested in antiques, huh?” He tilted his head to the side, a sheepish grin forming on his equally flushed face as he scratched his cheek. 

“Moreso the stories behind them. Its origin, method of creation, use, the history behind it. That sort of stuff.” Mikleo said, and made the mistake of meeting the boy’s eyes. He still had those  _ stupid  _ green eyes, now with an even more  _ stupid  _ smile. It actually seemed to be melting into a different expression now that he was actively focusing on the other’s face, eyes widening and then softening, almost like he could stare at Mikleo forever and never,  _ never _ get tired of it--

Oh no.

He realized it when his own heart started racing in the exact same way as last night.

It was happening again.

They were doing the  _ stupid  _ soul-searching thing, standing there like doofuses and looking into each other’s eyes for miles. 

“Really?” the boy asked excitedly, “My dad, Mayvin, runs this shop. Though, I guess that’s obvious because, err, ‘Mayvin’s Wares’ but he went to most of the antique shows for these pieces and he got to hear a lot about them from the dealers. So he probably knows a lot more than I do, but he’s busy right now so I can do my best to help you out if you want to take a look around--”

He was speaking so fast that Mikleo has to put up a hand to stop more words from bubbling out of his mouth. He takes back what he said earlier, ‘excited’ was an understatement for how this dude was acting.

“I’m sorry, could you um, repeat what you said? And not so fast this time?” Mikleo made sure not to look into his eyes this time, focusing on one of shimmering glass vases behind him. The situation was already awkward enough as it was, no need for them to start soul-searching again.

“Ah! Was I speaking too fast? S-Sorry,” he scratched the back of his head, doing some sort of awkward half-bow. What the hell..? It looked like he was trying to slam his own head into the counter.

“N-No, you’re okay.” Mikleo shook his head, hands occupied by grocery bags. God, this was awkward. “Go on…” he trailed off, meaning to say the other’s name before he realized that he didn’t even know that. “Um, sorry, what’s your name?” No time like the present to learn, he guessed.

“Oh! It’s Sorey!” he said, looking back up and taking his hand off his head to rest at his side.

“...’Sorry?’” Mikleo said, slowly repeating what he had just heard. “Why are you apologizing?”

“No, no,  _ Sorey.”  _

“I… I’d just like to know your name?”

“My name is Suh- _ rey, _ S-O-R- _ E _ -Y!” ‘Sorey’ exclaimed, voice rising with desperation and embarrassment.

“O-Oh,” Mikleo said dumbly. “Sorry...  _ Sorey. _ ” Okay, he’d have to learn to not put the apology in the same sentence as this guy’s name when he was speaking to him. It was just too weird.

Sorey shook his head, feathers jingling. (Actually, now that he thought about it, how did his earrings even work? Surely they’d be too heavy for the clips on his ears?) “It’s okay, other people have gotten it confused, too. Anyway,” he leaned against the counter. “Since you asked me mine, i-is it okay if I know yours?”

Mikleo blinked.  _ Oh.  _ That was right, he hadn’t given him his name yet, leaving so suddenly like that… “It’s Mikleo. M-I-K-L-E-O.” 

“That’s not a name you hear everyday,” Sorey commented. Although it seemed to be for the sake of conversation, rather than an insulting jab, unlike what Mikleo had heard so many times before.

“Neither is yours,” Mikleo shot back, a hint of a smile appearing on his face.

Sorey chuckled, ”Guess we both have strange names, then.”

Suddenly Mikleo noticed that his feet weren’t rooted to the floor anymore. Sorey seemed like a pretty nice guy, and his mother basically told him to take his time, so maybe they could talk a little bit more--

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

“Go ahead.” Sorey said before Mikleo could even look up from the noise.

Mikleo nodded, carrying the two bags in one hand as the other scrambled for his phone. He quickly swiped past the lock screen to check his texts. It was from Mom.

 

**[11:37 A.M.] Mom:**

MIKLEO!!!

HURRY BACK I NEED YOU HERE RIGHT NOW

OH MY GOD IT’S NOT STOPPING WHAT DO I DO MIKLEO OH GOD

MIKLOE

 

_ Oh dear _ , he thought.

 

**[11:37 A.M.] Mikleo:**

I’ll be there in five.

 

Mikleo opened his mouth to tell Sorey that he had to go, an apology already on his lips when the other raised his hand.

“No, it’s okay.” He had already deduced what happened, it seemed. “Is there anything I can do to help?” He looked worried, but all Mikleo could do was shake his head. Even he didn’t know what his mom had gotten herself into over there.

Mikleo headed toward the door, “Sorry about this. I’ll come back sometime. See you then, Sorey.” 

“Okay. I hope everything turns out good.”    


Mikleo sighed, jogging down the street. So did he.

Just what had she done now?

 

* * *

 

 

Sorey stood there, waving like an idiot long after Mikleo had left.

He sighed. Now he was all alone in the store again. Usually, he wouldn’t have minded, but.. He had really been looking forward to more of his company. Although, the fact that he had even showed up was a miracle in and of itself. Right after he wished to see him again, too!

...Wait a second.

Sorey whipped his phone out. If he recalled correctly, Mikleo had shown up right after Rose sent her last text, which was at--

11:12. 

Right after she had told him to make his 11:11 wish!

 

**[11:42 A.M.] Sorey:**

rOOOOOOOOOSE!!!!!! >A<

 

**[11:42 A.M.] Rose:**

sOOOOOOOOOREY!!!!!! >0<

no seriously dude what’s up

i thought u were dead

 

**[11:43 A.M.] Sorey:**

iT WORKED

 

**[11:43 A.M.] Rose:**

wait what worked

 

**[11:43 A.M.] Sorey:**

THE WISH

IT CAME T RUE 

 

**[11:44 A.M.] Rose:**

dUDE I FREAKING TOLD YOU

ALWAYS WISH AT 11:11

 

**[11:44 A.M.] Sorey:**

I WILL

 

**[11:45 A.M.] Rose:**

anyways what did you wish for nerd

was it ice cream

 

**[11:45 A.M.] Sorey:**

EVEN BETTER

The dude i met last night came to the shop :”D

 

**[11:47 A.M.] Rose:**

oOOOHHHHHHHH

ooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooOOOoooOOo oo Oo O Oo oOOo o oO OoOOOOo hHhHHHHHhh

 

**[11:48 A.M.] Sorey:**

Rose

Are you okay

Please respond

 

**[11:48 A.M.] Rose:**

that

my friend

is the best 11:11 story i have ever heard

 

**[11:49 A.M.] Sorey:**

^^

 

**[11:50 A.M.] Rose:**

so 

you smooth nerd you

did you get his name

 

**[11:51 A.M.] Sorey:**

I did!

His name is Mikleo

 

_ His name is Mikleo,  _ Sorey repeated to himself.

 

**[11:52 A.M.] Rose:**

ok dude i know he’s like your first true love and all but ngl the first thought i had was milkoreo

 

**[11:52 A.M.] Sorey:**

darn it rose

 

* * *

 

“Mom?!” Mikleo shouted once he got home, shutting the door behind him. Boxes were still everywhere, though there was quite a few more of them that were empty now. Nothing unusual could be seen from where he stood in the entryway. So  _ what  _ wasn’t stopping?

A hysterical-sounding sob answered him, and his heart dropped (as well as the grocery bags, consequently) as he raced towards the source of the noise. The bathroom.

What he walked in on was… not quite what he expected.

His mom sat in the corner of the bathroom, huddled into a small ball as if shielding herself from something. Upon walking further in, there seemed to be a loud buzzing noise coming from the toilet. He looked in, and immediately had to duck to avoid a spray of toilet water from splashing his face.

“Is the toilet broken?” Mikleo asked.

His mother shook her head. “No… It’s…. The  _ toothbrush. _ ”

“What.”

“I dropped it in there on accident and-- I never knew it was this powerful… Every time I tried to grab it, it jumped right out of my hand… I’ve gotten toilet water on me seven times… Seven...”

He skirted around the side of the bowl, and cautiously peeked over its edge. Sure enough, there was a vibrating toothbrush going crazy in the water. No, crazy was an understatement. It was like someone gave that toothbrush steroids, and then got it on a sugar high, except with drugs and energy drinks. That toothbrush was banging itself against the ceramic like it was dancing to some bad rendition of a Lady Gaga song, that’s how wild the thing was. No wonder his mother had called him back.

Mikleo sighed, “Wait here.” He walked out of the bathroom to get one of the smaller emptied boxes. He came back, and after putting on a thick cleaning glove, plunged his arm into the toilet. 

Coolness surrounded his hand through the rubber, and he deftly grabbed the wild toothbrush out of the bowl, gritting his teeth as it vibrated furiously. It was only thanks to the grip bumps on the glove’s fingers that it didn’t jump out of his hand and go wreak havoc on the house. Were toothbrushes supposed to be this powerful..?!

He shoved it in the cardboard box, it thrashed in there like an animal trapped in a cage. It wasn’t too far off. Using the opening created by the lid flaps, Mikleo was able to corner it and flick off the switch. 

The silence that came after was proof of a battle won, and he sighed in relief, throwing the offending toothbrush in the trashcan. 

“Sorry…” The victim of the incident looked up meekly. “I’ll clean this up…”

Mikleo nodded. “I’ll put away the groceries and unpack some more.” He folded up the cardboard box and threw that in the trash as well, washing the cleaning glove afterwards.

His mom got up to get some paper towels to wipe up the water, and Mikleo left the bathroom.

The groceries went into their proper places in the kitchen, and he looked around at the remaining boxes in the house. He and his mom had divided the duties of unpacking efficiently, so there wasn’t much left to take out and organize. 

Even so, it still took a bit of time, and Mikleo’s mind couldn’t help but drift to the events of the morning. Against all odds, he had met that boy again. 

_ And his name was Sorey. _

Mikleo closed his eyes for a moment, smiling.

Maybe it was fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tag yourself i'm "the toothbrush" 
> 
> posted for sormik week day 4: wind! (freedom, change) i hope to have chapter 3 up by day 6: lightning (honor, clarity) but if not, i'll definitely post it on day 7: malevolence/purity (choices, identity) 
> 
> thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 2 will be posted on Day 3: Wind. Hoping to have Chapter 3 out by Day 5: Lightning.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and happy sormik week!


End file.
